I mentioned here, a goal of entering five literary contests this year. In the middle of it all, our local library sponsored a “Flash Fiction (or Not) Contest”. The rules: limit of 750 words, theme based on hiking, camping, or travel, fiction or non-fiction. Journalist from the local newspaper were to be the judge.

So I entered.

April 15th the e-mail came letting me know I did not win. They sent the kindest rejection letter I ever read. I love librarians for many reasons. And that is one of them.

For the record, I did not expect to win—my humor is not for everyone. However, I wanted to read the winning entry to see what kind of pointers I could glean.

The library posted the winning story on their website on Tuesday, along with honorable mentions and finalists.

“I lied about the time,” he said, in hushed tones, glancing over his shoulder at me.

“Hey guys, we’re gonna use the port-o-potty before we head up the hill,” Sarah said. “I have no interest in using a port-o-bush.”

“Yeah, leaves of three don’t make good TP,” I said, laughing.

* * *

We hiked under the power lines into the trees. Juncos flitted overhead. Their music drowned out the intermittent traffic sounds below. The damp smell of fir needles intensified as the sun crested the trees.

Charlie lead us up a switchback off a sharp rise into a level, open area outlined with a rough hewn rail marking the route up the mountain.

“Hey Charlie hold up a minute, I have to make a pit stop,” Richard said. “I’ll be right back.”
Richard ducked under the rail. He walked down the hill into a thicket of trees. His red t-shirt disappeared from sight.

We leaned against the railing, and greeted fellow hikers.

Two minutes elapsed. Fifteen people walked up the trail. Three more minutes ticked by. Twenty more hikers.

“I’m getting worried about Richard,” Sarah said, twisting a lock of her curly brown hair, “what if he’s been eaten by a bear?”

“There are too many people in this area for bears. We make too much noise,” Charlie said, adjusting his wire rimmed glasses.

“Aren’t you worried, Fannie?”

“Nope. If he were in trouble, we’d hear him,” I said, nodding to the next group of hikers.

Richard emerged from the thicket. He scratched his arm below the tattered remnants of his sleeve.

“Richard, what happened to your shirt?” Sarah asked, the pitch of her voice rising like the trail.

“Sarah, you won’t believe this, I was attacked by a bear and barely got away,” Richard said, flashing his devilish grin. “Don’t worry, all it got was my shirt sleeve.”

Charlie and I gripped the rail—our bodies pulsated with suppressed laughter.

“We have to warn people,” Sarah said. “Somebody else might not be so lucky.”

“It’s a pretty good sized shirt sleeve. With that much fiber it’s gotta be full.”

“I’ve got to warn people, it’s not safe.” Sarah rushed toward the head of the switch back.

Recovered enough to chase her, I grabbed Sarah’s arm before she reached the next group of hikers.

10 Responses to A Writing Contest Update

Fannie/Tracy, I just went and read the winning entry and although I usually don’t “get it” in life, I REALLY don’t get that. I liked the pie scene and images of the beach, but I didn’t like italicized him, and I got zero closure at the end. I hate zero closure. I want things to make sense.

I entered a writing contest this year and recently read the winner’s story. I don’t think my short was necessarily better or worse than the winner’s, but at least I thought their story was interesting and had depth. After reading the winning story for this contest, and as a complete outsider, I must say you are not wrong in questioning why this was picked as number one, but sometimes it’s not about being a better story, sometimes it’s just about being different. This may have been the only abstract story they received so it stood out to the judges, don’t let it get you down, use it as fuel to try harder!

First of all, I loved your piece, but because I’ve read it before, I did not spew coffee all over my keyboard. Ha! Secondly, the winning piece made me go “Hmmm,” as I had a few unanswered questions. I did like the poetic style and imagery. But why was ‘he’ in italics? I first thought maybe ‘he’ wasn’t there at all. A memory? Then I thought ‘he’ must be very special, and it sounded like they’d been through a lot of heartbreak together. Then I wondered if their grandchildren were with them, not because it was only a vacation, but because the parents died! So much left for interpretation. So it made me go “Hmmm”.

Categories

Writer’s Toolbox

Email Subscription

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 466 other followers

Advertisements

On Photographs, Etc.

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tracy Perkins, with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.